The Player Next Door

Chapter 5

In our driveway, next to my beat-up automobile, sat a BMW black Jeep . Mark approached it, flashing lights flashing as he unlocked the doors.

"Don't touch anything," he said as I slid into the passenger seat with a squeak.

"I didn't request to accompany you."

He brushed by me, his fingers pressed over the back of my headrest. I inhaled his smoky aroma. The sunlight glinted off his tanned skin as he stood close to me. He drove us down the winding path in reverse with his left hand on the steering wheel.

"This is a poor idea, Mark." We can't afford to miss camp like this. They're going to notice-"

"Are you able to unwind?"

"Because there aren't any second chances for me." This position is significant to me. If I make a mistake, I'm out. Unlike you, no one is urging me to come here, and they can easily fire me."

He looked across at me with a faint smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as I became more silent. "It was a sincere inquiry." You're a wuss when it comes to anything."

"I understand."

"Really?

"No."

"Does that mean we're free to return?"

"Yeah."

I grimaced, my gaze falling on my hands. "Please, please, can't I do this favor later?" "Please, please, can't I do this favor later?"

I appeared insane.

Yes, he did.

"Stop making fun of me; I'm serious." Take a look at my solemn expression. Look!"

He laughed.

Mark swerved off to the side of the road and came to a complete halt. I didn't know what to anticipate. He took out his phone and dialed, his piercing blue eyes riveted on me throughout.

When I say it like that, it sounds so lame.

"Let's go back!" I said, swinging my hands. This was not the time for a casual phone call. We'd gotten away from camp as counselors.

"What's up, man?" says the narrator.

Still on the phone, he flicked my hands away "An obnoxious wasp is drawing my attention away from my work. Could you please do me a favor, man? Coverage for..." He fixed his gaze on me.

"Billie Jenner," says the narrator. For the 10,355,763th time, I repeated my name. My flailing arms came to a halt. Was he really assisting me?

"Billie Jenner's cover. She doesn't have to tell anyone she's not at camp. She'll come back tonight, I'm sure."

He then abruptly hung up and cranked the engine. I locked my gaze on him. So that was my experience as Mark Lawson. Everything went smoothly. There were no issues at all.

He increased his speed, speeding down the highway. I felt the breeze blow through my hair as I rolled down the window.

He smirked, "You call me an ungrateful jerk, but you don't say thank you either."

"Thank you for snatching me from summer camp," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Thank you, Billie," I say.

He addressed me by my first name.

This is my real name. I liked how he said it, too. Is that a terrible thing?

I'm not sure what the favor was for, but whatever it was, we showed up. While Mark parked with ease, I took in my surroundings.

We had gone to the beach.

Our hometown was almost two hours distant, while camp was only forty minutes away. Why on earth would Mark be taking me here for cotton candy and surfing?

We took a step outside. Mark looked like a model in a photo shoot at the beach. As he walked by, girls glanced at him. People were drawn to him because of his self-assurance and rugged good looks. They couldn't help but fall in love with him.

On the beach, what could I possibly do for him?

The sunlight glinted off Mark's jet-black hair as he turned around. "Are you going to come?"

Me. That's correct. Mark had dialed my number.

I felt as if my existence was the polar opposite of his. Nature needed to make something unpleasant to balance itself out when Mark was formed. I guarantee I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm simply reiterating what others have said. No matter how much you Princess Diaries our hair, some of us don't turn into stunners.

I joined him and we walked side by side onto the beach. I was a dreadful sidekick. He needed to be with a tomb robber like Angelina Jolie. They don't even have Hollywood characters like me, buddy.

While he strolled over the beach, I huffed and puffed from the sand soaking into my shoes.

"Could you just hurry up?"

"I'm making an effort."

"You're stumbling around like a penguin."

"I would have dressed better if you had told me where we were going," I grumbled.

"It appears that your lack of fashion sense is permanent."

"That's right. I'm grateful you smashed my laptop."

"Keep an eye on it. I'm trying to help you out."

"You left it on the driveway," says the narrator.

Mark and I were face-to-face, his minty breath in my nostrils, and I hadn't recognized it. The sand on my shoes had now ceased bothering me. Rather than falling into the sand, I felt myself sinking into his blue eyes. They vanished behind him, blending into the ocean's hue.

Mark leapt away from me as if he had caught fire. When I turned around, I saw a stunning young man rise from the sea, as though from a Baywatch scenario. Water streamed out of his hair as he shook his head. He had washboard abs and was holding a surfboard under his arm.

"Lawson!" exclaims the narrator.

Please excuse my drooling.

"Jason, brother," Mark said as he greeted the youngster.

"You two don't look anything alike," I observed.

Jason let out a lovely laugh. "It's just a remark. We're not blood relatives. Mark, you've got a funny girl there. How did you track her down?"

"Is she not my type?"

"Neither are you hers." I stated.

Jason reached out and extended his hand "Jason Johnson is a fictional character. It's great to finally meet you."

A well-behaved young man. How energizing.

"Billie. It's great to finally meet you."

His handshake was solid and powerful.

"Billie is assisting us with the situation." Mark put his arm around his friend's shoulder, relaxed in a way I hadn't seen him at camp.

"She's the only one who can help us. I wouldn't have gone with anyone else."

"Does she have the guts to go through with it?"

Then there's the jerk factor. They went their separate ways, catching up and laughing over stories I couldn't hear. I tried to run after them, but my feet were burning from the sand in my shoes.

I was still unsure what favor Mark required of me. I was on the beach with two attractive boys, prepared to do 'a thing'–sounds dirty–that would deduct $100 from the exorbitant sum I owed Mark for his computer...

Do you have any suggestions?

Nothing

I groaned and caught up with them as they walked into a beachfront restaurant. The Surfside Shack.